Disclaimer : I only own the fic and my rusty laptop, Joss & Mutant Enemy own the characters
I thought this was poignant for today, dont' bash me I'm not being political, but I do understand loss.
11th hour, 11th day, 11th month
There was a stillness in the air as the minutes’ silence came to an end . The day was cold blustery and overcast ; rain threatened in the clouds overhead. One by one the various groups of Royalty, Civic dignitaries and combatant representatives laid their wreaths at the cenotaph backing away with heads bowed in respect.
Finally the last group made their way to the memorial. A group of six people, all in dark outer coats, for formal wear for the occasion. First an older man with glasses and greying hair, followed by a petite blonde and a tall brunette. Behind them came a solitary brunette who looked as though she felt slightly out of place in such a formal gathering. Bringing up the rear were a couple; a redhead with an air of serenity about her and a tall dark haired man with an eye patch.
Their wreaths laid, they followed the lines back to their positions and waited silently with their thoughts for the ceremony to end…………….……
Giles had decided that his surrogate family needed closure of some kind
23rd June 2005
Thank you for your recent correspondence requesting that your group be allowed to attend memorial services of remembrance.
Her Majesty has acknowledged the selfless service that your organisation has given to the world generation after generation, and has acquiesced to your request to attend, and for anonymity in the proceedings.
A detailed letter of instructions will follow with regard to placement and timing of events.
Yours is a war we cannot lose
Secretary to Her Majesty
The two BBC reporters looked at each other.
“Who are they, is there any information on them?. I can‘t announce them if I don‘t know who they are” One of them said to the researcher, who just shrugged.
“Sorry “ She said. “We just don’t have that information.”
If the cameras televising the scene could have zoomed in close enough on the wreaths the had laid, they would have seen each poppy had a name; one for each of those who had fallen in the fight against evil.